


Yes You Can

by ThatOneKrys



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Comforting Killian, F/M, Freaking out Emma, Pregnant Emma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-07 00:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1877979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOneKrys/pseuds/ThatOneKrys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Emma was pregnant, she was betrayed and sent to prison. The first time she gave birth, she was chained up and already knowing she’d never get the chance to hold her own child (because if she did, she’d never give them up, taking away their chance at the best life possible). When she finds out she’s pregnant again, all those fears and memories of abandonment resurface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes You Can

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me after seeing (again) a gifset of Emma's pregnancy in prison. As much as I love happy!Emma when it comes to Killian getting her pregnant, I imagine there are some lingering problems from Henry's birth and the situation she was in. Mix in a lot of angst, and this is what my brain came up with.

Most women, when seeing the little ‘+’ appear, are ecstatic to find out they’re pregnant. Why wouldn’t she be happy to start the growth of her family with a partner wholly devoted to her and her happiness? Of course, most women aren’t Emma Swan. They weren’t set up to take the fall for their boyfriend’s crimes and thrown in jail only to find out they’re pregnant a month later. Nor did they have to give birth to a child they weren’t planning on keeping while cuffed, hands and feet, to the hospital bed.

After taking four tests, it’s impossible for Emma to pretend there’s something wrong with the results; there’s no mistake. She’s pregnant. She has no idea how Killian’s going to take the news. Kids aren’t something they’ve taken the time to talk about. Mostly because it’s never been brought up. They have Henry, and it’s obvious how much Killian loves and adores him. Kids are never the topic of discussion for them. Of course, they don’t really take proper precautions to prevent her getting pregnant either… The pill is the only thing they use.

* * *

It’s another month before she tells Killian. She spends most of that month terrified, afraid he’s going to leave her when he finds out. No one’s making him stay with her—they aren’t even married—and he’s never said anything about wanting a kid. And now she’s hiding it from him. He has every right to be upset and disgusted and annoyed and everything else that will make him want to leave.

The only reason her secret gets revealed this soon is because she’s dealing with the grossest part of the whole process. Morning sickness. This is the third night in a row she wakes up and runs to the bathroom, Killian following behind her seconds later. His hair is disheveled and eyes half lidded, still full of sleep, and he squats down next to her, his hand rubbing soothing circles up and down her back. At first she played it off as food poisoning, but he knows better now.

“This is beyond a little food poisoning, love,” he comments, and she almost cringes at the obvious worry in his voice. “Perhaps we should go see Whale?”

“There’s no point,” she groans, forehead resting against the cool porcelain of the toilet bowl. Her stomach has stopped churning, but she stays there for a few more minutes just in case.

Even if she can’t see him, she knows he’s frowning, brows furrowing together like they always do when something worries him. “Yes there is, if you’re still getting sick.”

She groans again, eyes scrunching shut tightly, wishing he might just drop the subject. She doesn’t want to talk about it. She doesn’t want him to leave her; and the longer she waits, the longer she delays his departure. She’s selfish like that.

“Emma?”

“I’m not sick,” she blurts out, unable to handle the tone of his voice. As much as she hates having to tell him, she hates worrying him even more. “I’m pregnant.”

He stills beside her for a second— _here it is, he’s going to tell me he doesn’t want it- or me- and he’s going to leave_ —until his arms are suddenly wrapped around her and she’s being pulled into his chest. “Bloody hell, love. You’re pregnant?” The shock in his voice is expected, but the underlying awe takes her by surprise. And then he starts laughing, vibrant and carefree and _happy_. Why is he happy about this? He’s supposed to leave her like Neal did, force her to go through this alone. That’s how it is for Emma Swan. “How long have you known?”

“Um- a…a month?” she whispers into his shoulder, tense in his arms because she’s afraid to relax, waiting for reality to come crashing down around her.

Killian’s hand is in her hair, fingers combing through her locks and gently freeing any knots he comes across. “Why didn’t you say anything before?” He’s whispering now too, and the only thing she hears in his voice is curiosity. There’s no malice, no anger, at her keeping it a secret from him.

She sits there silently for who knows how long, fighting against herself. Her body starts trembling as her fear of him leaving keeps growing until she can’t handle it anymore. As soon as his arms tighten around her, she breaks. She slumps against him and wraps her arms around his middle, face burying in his neck as the tears flow freely. “Because I don’t want to be alone again,” she admits between shallow breaths and tears. She half wishes he was wearing a shirt so she can cling to the fabric, half glad he isn’t because his warmth is the most welcoming thing in the world right now.

The hand in her hair clenches for a second, loosening just as quickly to smooth down her tresses and over her back. “You won’t be alone this time, Emma,” he assures her, lips pressing against the side of her head. “I will always be right here at your side. I’m not going to leave you.”

That’s when she starts crying harder, sobbing. Of course he knows exactly what she’s thinking. Open book. They sit there until she finally calms down, hours or minutes later she isn’t really sure—or cares. He holds her and repeats his whispered promises between kisses to her hair, temple, forehead, cheeks, and eventually her lips when she’s stable enough to look at him with puffy, red rimmed eyes. Promises that she knows he’ll keep.

* * *

Emma’s able to keep her fears mostly in check, all thanks to her pirate and his daily reminders that he’s still there and always will be and just how  _brilliant and strong and beautiful_ she is. Until she starts showing at 13 weeks. Of course it’s at 13 weeks—fucking unlucky number it’s always been.

Killian walks into their bathroom to see the blonde staring into the mirror, shirtless and hands smoothing tentatively up and down her stomach. She’s so wrapped up in the fact that this is all so _real_ and now _everyone_ will know and she won’t be able to keep _pretending_ and she’s going to see the _disgrace_ in everyone’s eyes and the _whispered jeers_ just like in prison, that she misses the smile he offers her as he slides up behind her, his good hand lying gently atop one of hers. A soft breath catches in her throat and her gaze lifts up to meet his in the mirror; the fear returning to her wide jade eyes. His arms are around her a second before she breaks down again, catching her before she can drop to the floor in a sobbing mess, and slowly brings her down to the floor with him, cradling her in his embrace.

“I can’t do this,” she gasps out into the crook of his shoulder, arms curling up and around his neck. “Everyone’s going to know!”

“Shh,” he whispers into her hair, kissing her temple, and rubs his hand up and down her back. “Everyone will know and they will be _happy_ for us. For _you_. You _can_ do this, Emma. I’ve yet to see you fail.”

The little mantra he uses in praise of her since their stint to the past brings the tiniest hint of a smile to her lips, but it’s enough to calm her crying. They stay in the bathroom for a time, Killian’s back rests against the wall, and simply hold each other until she feels brave enough to face the rest of the town long enough to grab dinner from Granny’s.

* * *

She is gross. Disgusting. She doesn’t understand how Killian can stand looking at her fully clothed, let alone naked, when she can’t. As soon as she started showing she’s been gaining weight like crazy and she  _hates_ it. Hates how it makes her look. She’s pudgy  _everywhere_ ; her face, her thighs, her arms. It’s  _gross_ .

How did Mary Margaret manage to look as perfect as ever when she was pregnant with Neal? _Because she’s fucking Snow White,_ that’s _why_.

If there’s one time she wishes she was alone through all this, it’s now. She wouldn’t have to deal with the thought of Killian no longer finding her attractive; at least last time she didn’t have to worry about Neal feeling that way.

Pinching at the fat around her thigh, she lets out a frustrated huff-grunt-thing and tries to reign in the whine that wants to escape. With her screwed up hormones she’s surprised it actually works. Until she pinches her other thigh, then each arm, and then her cheeks and chin. A frustrated and disgusted noise falls past her lips just as Killian walks in. _Fuck him and his timing._

“Is everything alright?” he questions as he moves closer, reaching out to touch her.

She sidesteps his attempt, frowning. “Don’t touch me.”

He gives her a strange look before schooling his features into something more patient and understanding. “Why not?”

“Because I’m gross and fat and ugly,” she admits quietly, arms crossing over her chest to close herself off from him.

Before she realizes what’s happening, he’s standing in front of her and pulls her into a hug as he kisses her forehead. “You are as beautiful as always, Emma.”

“No, I’m not,” she mumbles.

“Yes,” he whispers against her brow, kissing her. “You,” a kiss to her nose. “Are.” He kisses her on the lips, slow and gentle and reverent. And when he carefully picks her up and takes her to their bed, she slowly begins to believe his words about her beauty with each achingly slow touch and thrust until she finally agrees that she is still as brilliantly gorgeous as always.

* * *

When her water breaks, they’re over at the loft with her parents. The realization is out of her mouth for not even a full minute before the memories of  _last time_ invade her mind. The real last time, not the false memories provided by Regina. Of cuffs around her ankles and wrists and refusing to listen to or look at her baby because she knew she couldn’t provide for it like it deserves. Of  _loneliness_ and  _abandonment_ .

She’s hyperventilating, and doesn’t notice David’s presence near her until he catches her before her knees buckle and she hits the ground. Killian’s in front of her a second later, hand brushing hair out of her face as he catches her wild, terrified gaze. Tears suddenly spring free and she reaches out to her pirate, clinging to him immediately.

“Don’t leave me!” she begs through her sobs, fingers fisting into the fabric of his t-shirt.

“I’m right here, love. I’m not going anywhere without you,” he promises.

Unlike every other major break down, she isn’t lucky enough to spare Henry this time. He’s there, standing with Mary Margaret, eyes wide with equal amounts of worry and love for her. She spies him over Killian’s shoulder and reaches out for him as well, needing her son _now_.

“Mom!” He hurries to her, hugging her as tightly as he can around Killian’s embrace. “You need to go to the hospital, mom.”

“Henry’s right, Emma,” her mother jumps in for the first time with her ever gentle voice. “We have everything ready. David’s going to drive you guys.”

She searches for Killian’s eyes once more, silently pleading for him to stay with her. “I’ve got you, Swan.”

Killian and Henry’s presence around her is enough to calm her so she’s focusing on her breathing through her contractions during the too long ride—even though they’re only three miles away—to the hospital. It isn’t until she’s being wheeled through the hospital and into one of the rooms that she freaks out again.

“No! No no no no no! I can’t do this! Killian! I can’t!” She’s panicking, crying and terrified and wanting to be _anywhere_ but here, trying to find escape in her wheelchair. “Don’t let them take my baby! I can’t- not again!”

He’s in front of her, his hand against her cheek and tilting her head up. When she sees his bright, gorgeous and _perfect_ ocean blue eyes, she calms just enough to listen to him. “No one’s taking our child, Emma. No one’s going to restrain you or tied you down. We can trust Whale. You can do it. I’ve yet to see you fail.”

She nods once her panic is dispelled, crying out from another contraction and gripping the armrest until it passes. She’s moved to the bed and everything is a blur of pain, screams, a hand in her iron grip and sweat.

As soon as the room fills with the sound of high pitched cries, her world stops, waiting on bated breath until a bundle of blankets is carefully placed in her arms. Her baby— _their_ baby—continues to cry and it’s the most beautiful sound in the world.

Every second of fear and panic in the last nine months is completely washed away and replaced with joy and happiness and pure love as pirate and savior stare down at their son.

And when Henry’s introduced to his baby brother Liam, she realizes just how pointless the fears of her past repeating and haunting her are.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope I didn't cause too many angst-related injuries with that. If I did, I'm only slightly sorry? Because we all know we're all suckers for angst.


End file.
